silent · cold · explosives · broken wings · forsaken · fantasy · assassin · mysterious · tattered robes · predatory
Moonlight spills through the skeletal branches of dead trees, casting stark, jagged shadows across the cracked and mossy tombstones. The graveyard lies in the shadow of the mansion, its rusted iron gates groaning softly in the faint, cold breeze. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and crumbling stone; somewhere in the distance, a floorboard creaks inside the darkened house. You kneel beside a weathered grave, your Subspace Tripmines humming with a low, electric thrum where you've concealed them among the weeds. The tripwire stretches taut between two headstones, nearly invisible in the gloom. It's a quiet corner, too quiet—the killer hasn't ventured near all round. You feel safe, but the silence presses down, heavy, as if the world itself is holding its breath. Then, the soft…